The Ballad of Big Nothing
by attica
Summary: You never forget your first love. Bryce/Juli, takes place 4 years after the novel. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Title borrowed from Elliot Smith (which I know is hugely irrelevant to this story, but I was stuck on a title so I just scrolled through my iTunes and chose randomly). I've been a huge fan of Flipped ever since I read it ages ago, and I've always wanted to write something that would take off where the novel left off (for a more mature audience). For further clarification, this takes place 4 years after the novel.

Minor edits: June 6, 2011

* * *

"So," Chet says to her, only glancing up from the plywood for just a second. "I heard."

She'd come over to help Chet with a cabinet for Mrs. Loski; he was ambitiously endeavoring building one from scratch. He was hammering a nail through the one of the shelves, and then testing it out, checking if it was sturdy enough.

She looks up at him, wondering what he's talking about.

"And I must offer my congratulations. Though I'm surprised, not in the least bit. You, Julianna Baker, are genuinely the smartest girl I have ever met. You make the rest of your generation pale in comparison."

She grabs another nail from the nail box, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. He'd probably found it out from her parents, who were so excited they couldn't keep their mouths shut even though she'd specifically asked them to. At least, for now.

"It's not a big deal, Chet."

He stops hammering and gives her a very serious look. "It," he says, "is the biggest deal there is. Stanford is a big deal, Juli. You deserve Stanford."

She pauses for a second. He asks her to hold the shelf steady as he nails another one in. "And what about Bryce? Where is he planning on going?"

"He got accepted into a school in California and one in New York," Chet replies. "He's still debating between the two. I'm betting on California." Then he falls silent. At first she thinks it's because he's gathered all his focus into the shelf, until he goes, quietly, "You could ask him yourself, you know."

She silently takes in a breath. Unknowingly, she averts her eyes, grabbing another nail from the nail box. "I could, but it's not really any of my business."

"He knows about Stanford. It's not like it would be a one-sided conversation."

She sighs. "It's not that easy, Chet. You know that."

"What I know about conversations is that you have to approach them and talk for them to happen. It sounds easy enough." He looks at her, then, putting down the hammer. She's known him long enough that she can tell when he's about ready to give her one of his little nuggets of experience-driven wisdom. "Julianna, I'm old. I've lived through many difficult conversations, and look at me: I'm building a cabinet."

She finds herself laughing aloud. No matter what, Chet always made her laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Chet explains, picking the shelf up again, "that I'm still alive. When you get this old, you start to realize that the things you thought were so important when you were young aren't so important in retrospect. All of those difficult conversations were just training to be able to live through the biggest, most difficult conversation of them all: life itself."

ooo

One of the things she liked best about sycamores is their ability to grow through almost anything. Their town had been having one of the worst droughts last year – record-breaking enough to be televised on the news – and everybody frantically tried to save their plants with a morning watering routine. She did the same, but her neighbors had considerably less luck. She watched as their green lawns withered into an unattractive, dry, crunchy brown. Her sycamore, however, remained as unchanged as ever. Even Chet, who still came by sometimes and whom she still helped with numerous projects, told her that it was like she was trying to rescue something that didn't need to be rescued.

It's been four years since the tree had been originally planted by Bryce Loski. It grew sturdy and strong, without disturbance. She still remembered the day he first planted it, too – the way he smiled and waved at her, hopeful. She remembered feeling that same spark inside her, a spark that she thought had long gone out with everything that had happened – the same she'd felt all throughout her childhood ever since she'd laid eyes on those baby blues. Bryce Loski, her true love. Bryce Loski, the boy who could never do wrong.

Bryce Loski, who had humiliated her and her family.

She figured something could have happened that summer he'd tried to patch up every screwed up thing he'd done to her by planting her very own sycamore. He'd changed, sure. But that summer she'd gone away to camp, and when she came back – things just weren't the same between her and Bryce. Having time to think it over and slowly grow up, she realized that maybe she didn't want anything with Bryce Loski after all. Maybe Bryce Loski had just been a phase. A very, very long phase.

When she came back after camp, he made an effort to talk to her – to be her friend. He'd even kissed her again. But even after everything, she knew they were two very different people, who lived in two very different worlds. He agreed to be friends, but when they got to high school, they eventually fell out of talking. It wasn't just his fault, of course – it was hers. She didn't make the effort when she saw him pulling away because, for once in her life, she didn't want to be the girl who chased after Bryce Loski anymore.

Yet, every night she looked out of her window, or came home from school, or left the house – there it was, her sycamore that Bryce had planted just for her in eighth grade, the sycamore that was supposed to be a testament of how things had changed.

And it was true, for the most part. The more it grew, the more things changed. She guessed that was just how life was. Nothing was meant to stay the same forever.

ooo

It was somewhere in August when she saw them.

She had gone for a late night run. Her parents hated it when she did this, but sometimes her mind got too restless and over-stimulated with thoughts. Runs always helped her get her focus back.

It had been a hot day and only cooled down at around eight o'clock in the evening, but even though the sun was gone, it still left behind that hot, humid summer air.

She'd hit the one mile mark, running around the silent neighborhoods, focusing on the rhythm of her breathing and the tattoo of her pulse. She was exhausted but determined to make another mile before she ended the night.

She had just turned into Glendale Street when she saw him.

Bryce had inherited his father's old BMW. It was black and still in impeccable condition, as Mr. Loski, to match his big shot attitude, had always been big on maintaining expensive cars. It was definitely a step up (or twenty) from her beat-up blue truck that her dad had bought for her from a coworker that was leaving the state. Nevertheless, living across the street from him, she had watched him leave and come back in the car too many times to not recognize every bit of detail of his BMW.

So it made sense that it was the car she recognized first. Then she recognized who was inside.

It was Bryce, sitting in his car, making out with Cindy Frisch. His lights were off but she could see them clearly from the dim light of Cindy's front porch. She knew Cindy. Cindy was on the cheerleading team. She went out with football players and had a reputation for wearing jeans that were two sizes too small.

She didn't realize that she'd stopped dead in her tracks and had been staring until Bryce suddenly opened his eyes and saw her. He looked at her and continued to kiss Cindy, as if he didn't care at all that they had an audience. Staggering backwards, she quickly turned around and ran back.

That night she ran until she passed out. She didn't want to remember anything about that night, anything at all.

ooo

Prom is two weeks away. She sees the banners in the school hallway and notices the excited sparkle in girls' eyes when they talk about it, the details of all the chiffon and satin and rhinestones. Sometimes she envies the girls who were so consumed by the notion of prom itself – she imagined that it would have been liberating, and maybe more normal, for a girl her age.

Even her mother isn't oblivious to what's happening. Everywhere, storefronts were dressed up in glamorous, slinky ensembles. Sooner or later, she knew it would be brought up, somehow.

So it doesn't surprise her that her mom chooses to bring it up now, as Juli is helping her bake the apple pie for dessert.

"The prom's coming up," her mother casually mentions to her one afternoon, prepping the pie crust.

Juli doesn't look up. "Apparently so," she says, slicing up apples.

"Have you been asked yet?"

She doesn't want to look up into her mother's hopeful and expecting eyes, even though she can feel them burning into the side of her face. She keeps her focus on the apples, slicing them with more than enough precision. "I've been asked."

"Oh?"

"By a few guys, but I haven't really. . . responded."

It's true. She's been asked by at least three different boys at her school. There was Bryan Tuft, who had been her biology partner and who she'd gotten along with fairly well. There was Shawn Motts, who was on the track team and had dyed his hair blue in sophomore year. And there was also Nick Sansford, the debate team captain that had been crushing on her ever since they'd paired up for a debate in junior year. She likes all three an equal amount, but the idea of prom was just so. . . so. . . _not special_. Not to her, anyway. Sure, she wanted to go, but she feels like she lacks the energy and enthusiasm that a normal girl would have for this kind of thing.

"Oh? And why is that?" Her mother gives a hesitant pause. "Is it because. . . ."

"I'm just not sure who to choose," she says quickly, plastering on a smile. She knows where her mother was going to go with that sentence, and she's relieved she didn't go on.

"Well," Mrs. Baker says, putting on an uneasy smile, "I'm sure they're all nice boys. Just let me know when you want to look for a dress."

That night she goes outside and sits down by her sycamore. She'd come out with a book, but instead she finds herself watching the sunset. Sycamores grow fairly quickly, but she finds herself always wishing this one grew faster. It isn't large enough to climb up in yet, and sometimes all she needs is to climb, and keep climbing, getting lost in the branches and the leaves only to let out a deep breath of air once she got to the top. Up there, she feels like nothing can touch her.

She watches the Loskis' house across the street. Their curtains are pulled open and she can see bodies moving around in the house. She sees Chet's tall and skinny body, energetic yet graceful for an old man, walking back and forth. They were getting ready for dinner. For a quick second she wishes she could see Bryce, and she doesn't exactly know why.

She wonders who Bryce is taking to the prom. She wonders if he's going to take Cindy Frisch. She wonders if the two of them could actually carry on an actual conversation without sticking their tongues down each other's throat, or if Bryce would ever consider planting a tree for Cindy. She wonders if Cindy would even appreciate that.

She sighs, closing her eyes and resting her head back on her tree. So this was still how it was going to be.

She wonders if it's too late for her and Bryce, even if it's just to be friends.

ooo

She works at the used bookstore. Last year she'd worked at the community garden but as much as she loved being outdoors, she opted for a little variety this time. She loves her job and loves reading even more, so she relishes working. Just being surrounded by books gives her a sense of peace – in a different way climbing up a tree did.

She's re-shelving some books and adding sale tags when she hears the bell ring. They have more than a few regulars, mostly bookworms and the elderly. Chet came by some days to chat or to browse the selections – he liked the classics, particularly Hemingway.

She was in the process of marking down Bram Stoker's Dracula when she hears him, and it doesn't even register to her who it is until she looks up.

"Hey," he says.

It's Bryce, standing just a few feet from her. For some reason, she feels like this is the first time in a long time that she has ever seen him this close. He looks taller. His hair has gotten minutely darker, and his face has gotten thinner. But his eyes look as blue as ever, as blue as the sky in springtime, and for a second she feels a faint quiver down her spine.

"Hey," she finds herself saying back without realizing she'd opened her mouth.

"Chet told me about you, and Stanford," he says. He seems hesitant, but his eyes are serious, and determined.

She looks down for a second. She can feel her heart start to race. If she pressed her finger right up against her wrist, she would feel her pulse, drumming faster and faster as the seconds ticked by. "Yeah," she says, sliding the book right in. "I guess my parents told him."

"Have you decided whether you're going?"

She tries not to act so shocked at his sudden curiosity with her college plans. "Not yet. I mean. . . I'm still kind of wrapping my mind around it, too."

Then he looks her in the eye, and says, "I think you should go."

She stares at him. She's confused at the tangled array of words inside her mind. She plays his words back again. What does he mean? Does he really want her to leave that badly? She feels her stomach drop but also feels that familiar swell of anger.

She doesn't know what it is about Bryce Loski, but when she's around him she has a tendency of doing things without thinking twice.

She shoves Dracula back into the shelf.

"Look, if you don't want to see me around that badly, then why wait for me to make a decision? Why don't _you_ leave?"

She hadn't been planning to say that to him, but she did. She wasn't aware of how sharp and brusque her words had sounded were until afterwards, when the air between them suddenly got very cold and tense. His face hardens and his piercing blue eyes narrow, as if he hates her. And all of this time that she'd spent chasing him, then hating him, and now avoiding him – she's never seen him look like he genuinely, truly hated her.

Until now.

And then, without another word, he brushes past her and leaves. She hears the lingering ring above the door as it swings open, then closed.

Just as quickly as he appeared, he's gone.

ooo

That night, she's unable to sleep. She lays awake and finds herself picking apart what had happened in the bookstore, filling in the details of his messy blond hair and the square of his jaw tightening when she'd lashed out at him. In her mind she keeps watching it happen, over and over again, and each time she feels the same pang of pain and anger, clouded by confusion. Did he come just to tell her to leave – that he didn't want to see her around anymore? This was the first time they'd talked in years, with the exception of a Merry Christmas or Happy New Year's, and he couldn't wait to tell her to get lost.

Maybe he feels humiliated, knowing that he'd ever tried to pursue her. With Bryce Loski, she doesn't doubt it.

Knowing that she wasn't going to get any sleep with her thoughts racing like this, she gets out of bed, pulling on her running shoes. She slips out of her window, not wanting to disturb her parents.

She ends up at the park. When she was little, she'd loved this park almost as much as she loved the old sycamore tree by the bus stop. It had a little swing set and a dug-out, with climbing bars. Further back there's a thick area of woods where older kids used to go to make out. She remembers how big it had all seemed before – the way the climbing bars towered over her and how the feel of the cool metal against her palm always gave her shivers. How going so high on the swings had always been her number one goal, to feel the flutters of flying in her stomach. But now, as she stands there, everything seems so small, and insignificant. She knows from the patches of overgrown grass and rust from years of disuse that it has been abandoned.

But it isn't just the years of innocence she'd spent here that always made her come back. She'd been kissed here. Bryce had kissed her in this very park when she'd come back from camp. His palms had been moist against her shoulder, and his lips were nervous but soft with inexperience. The way he'd kissed her had been tentative and gentle – just the way every girl's first kiss ought to be. She wonders, if he were to kiss her again, if it would still feel the same.

Sighing, she continues her route past the park.

ooo

On the way back home she takes the same route. She sees the park sign coming up ahead and she almost wants to pass it without looking – when she sees a figure. As she comes nearer she finds that she recognizes who it is. The moon is full tonight, and it casts an ethereal glow down at the park. She sees the blond hair and those broad shoulders, and her breath catches.

As much as her heart is telling her to stay, she runs even faster, hoping that he doesn't see her. She runs home in what seems like one single breath.

That night she doesn't sleep at all.

ooo

One morning, as she's at her locker, shoving her books in, she is greeted by Diana Littleton's familiar scent of bubblegum and Strawberry shampoo.

"I heard," she says to her, hugging her Chemistry book close to her chest as she leans on the locker next to hers, "that Bryce Loski hasn't asked anyone to the prom yet."

Juli's known Diana since kindergarten. That was the thing about small towns – you knew everybody, and everybody knew you, which meant that every single thing you did was always going to follow you for the rest of your life. Diana, along with most of the student body, had been in the same cafeteria when Bryce had tried to kiss her in the eighth grade. Diana had also been her PE partner, her biology desk partner, and a member of the Environmentalist Club, of which she was part of. This was plenty of time for Diana to let Juli know – according to the note she had passed to her one morning during fourth period – that she was a "big fan" of her and Bryce.

"And you haven't said Yes to any of the guys that have asked you yet, either," Diana says, giving her a little knowing smirk.

"That," she says, not looking up from her study sheet for history, "has nothing to do with Bryce."

Diana rolls her eyes and slams her locker shut, before leaning in to whisper something to Juli.

"Deny it all you want, Juli. But this could be your last chance to find out what could have really happened between the two of you." And then, a perky, "See you in third period!"

Juli doesn't look up until she can hear Diana's shoes all the way down the hall, and when she does, she can still smell her sickly sweet perfume. She shoves her study sheet into her bag and heads to class, her palms suddenly moist against the torn spine of her textbook and her face a little warm.

ooo

Once, when Chet was helping her recycle the chicken coup wood, he had mentioned that Mrs. and Mr. Loski were having some problems. Chet wasn't one to talk about the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Loski, so she knew that even though he'd only mentioned it in passing, it was serious.

Lynetta had moved out of the house after graduation and was away in California at UCLA, leaving only Bryce there, with his grandpa, along with the Loskis. Not much was ever said about how life at the Loski house had changed, but she had been living across the street from the Loskis long enough to be able to sense when something wasn't quite right.

One night, having come home late from work, she was taking out the trash and she'd heard shouting from the Loski's house. This was the first time she'd ever heard them fight like this; the first real time she had any reason to suspect any bit of ugliness inside their perfect house. Then, suddenly, the front door opened and slammed shut behind Mr. Loski, who had gotten into his car and driven away.

After that, she stood there for a few minutes, watching their house. It suddenly became eerily quiet. Her eyes flickered up to Bryce's window. The lights were off, but she knew he wasn't asleep. Somehow, with some things, she just knew.

One day Juli comes home and finds Mrs. Loski and her mother sitting together at the kitchen table. Before, it would have been rare to find her mom and their neighbor sitting down together, but ever since Mr. and Mrs. Loski's marital troubles had intensified Juli had become used to seeing her take refuge at their house. She had always liked Mrs. Loski – she was a kind woman, who really made an effort to make friends with her family after the whole egg incident. It was Mr. Loski that still hit a sore note every now and then.

Mrs. Loski had been crying. Juli had walked in on them like this before, with her mother comforting her with a box of Kleenex between them on the table, but that didn't mean it made things any less awkward.

Startled, Mrs. Loski, who had red watery eyes and a pink nose, quickly dabs her eyes. She offers a gentle hello to Juli, which she politely returns.

"Juli," her mom says with a forced smile, "how was school?"

"It was fine," she says. She knows well enough not to stick around, so she heads up to her room to give her mom and Mrs. Loski some space. "See you later, Mrs. Loski."

She finds herself fighting the urge to eavesdrop as she heads up the stairs. It wasn't that she was curious or nosy – she was worried. About Mrs. Loski, about Chet. About Bryce. From the way she saw things, things weren't getting any better at the Loski household, but worse.

ooo

It's later on that evening, long after Mrs. Loski had gone, that her mother steps into her room. Juli closes her textbook, watching her mom slowly move toward her bed, her face heavy with concern. She sits down.

"I know that you must know by now that things aren't going well at the Loski household," she says. "Rick and Patsy. . . well, things haven't gotten any better. They've been fighting a lot and they're seriously considering getting a divorce."

She stares at her mother and lets the words sink in. Divorce. Mr. and Mrs. Loski, Bryce's parents, were getting a divorce. Of course, with Mrs. Loski often at their house with red eyes and their depleting supply of Kleenex, she isn't exactly shocked, but she worries about what it will do to Bryce and Mrs. Loski. Did Bryce know? Had they told him? How did he feel about everything?

She hated to think about him, being there, having to see and hear his parents fight. Her parents rarely fought, but when they did, and she was here, she felt like crawling out of her skin. She could only imagine how it felt to be in the Loski house these days – to be in a house so seemingly perfect on the outside, yet quickly crumbling on the inside.

"Patsy was wondering. . . and she knows it's a lot to ask, considering your history with Bryce. . . but she was wondering if you could talk to him." She pauses, her eyes flickering across her face, as if gauging her reaction. "She's worried about him, Juli. With all of the fighting and hostility at the house, he disappears a lot and she's worried about the toll it's taking on him. Chet's already tried talking to him, and so has Patsy, but it's difficult when he's so closed off."

She becomes silent, and Juli thinks about what she said. There's no doubt in her mind that she would help out Mrs. Loski any way that she could, even considering the fact that Bryce could very well hate her.

"Patsy was here today because. . . well, last night, Bryce got into it with Rick. Yelling at each other – she said that she had never seen Bryce like that before. So angry. It scared her. Bryce was telling Rick just to leave and never come back. She thought one of them would throw a punch, but Rick ended up taking off."

Juli almost feels herself choke up at her mother's words. She wants to look across the street to the Loskis' and tell herself that everything was going to be fine, but she knows too well that everything is different now. Even from outside, she can tell their house isn't the same. Mrs. Loski wasn't outside in a bright yellow sundress, trimming her roses or waving hello or talking with the neighbors. Instead she was inside, cooped up, crying over her marriage. Her roses, once the proud blooms of the neighborhood, were dead and wilted now.

"I'll talk to Bryce," Juli says to her mother. She knows that it is probably going to be difficult, but she doesn't care. If this was the one thing she could do for Mrs. Loski, then she would do it.

"Thank you, Juli. I'm sure Patsy will be so grateful." Her mother sighs, putting on a small smile. She gives her a kiss on the forehead, before heading back downstairs.

Juli sits there for a minute, staring at the senseless block of text in front of her. She remembers there had been a time, when she was younger, that she had wished her parents were more like Mr. and Mrs. Loski. They would have a nicer home, with a nice yard, and money to buy nice things. She hadn't cared about any of that before until Bryce had let her know exactly what an eyesore their home and yard was, and for a while afterwards it was all she could think of. Their lives must have been easy, she'd thought. They could have anything they wanted.

Now she feels guilty – guilty for ever wanting a family different than her own, and guilty because she'd ever thought the Loskis had a perfect life. Now she knew just how wrong she was.

ooo

The next day at school all she can think about is Bryce. Her classes whiz by in a blur, and for once her mind is anywhere but on her studies. In the hallways she manages to snap out of her trance to look through the passing crowd, searching for Bryce, but she doesn't see him once.

During lunch she sees Diana walking out of the bathroom. She stops her.

"Diana, have you seen Bryce?"

She knows that Diana has a big mouth and has friends with equally large mouths, but she's no longer thinking about the reputation she's tried so hard to leave behind. She's going to be graduating in a few months and all of this would be behind her. It was an easy concession for moving on.

"No, he didn't show up for school today," Diana says. Then she gets a familiar glint of suspicion in her eyes. "Wait a minute. . ."

Juli turns and walks down the corridor, towards the school's exit. Behind her, she hears Diana call at her back, full of wild curiosity.

"Juli, did Bryce Loski ask you to the prom?"

ooo

When she arrives at the Loskis', she notices that Bryce's BMW is not parked in the driveway. She puts her truck on park and walks up to the front door, ringing the bell. Her hands are jittery, and her palms are sweaty. She licks her dry, chapped lips.

Mrs. Loski answers the door.

"Juli," she says, looking surprised to see her on her doorstep. "Hi."

"Hi Mrs. Loski, is Bryce home?"

"Actually, he's not. He went to California to visit Lynetta at the university for a few days."

When she hears this, she wants to let out a big breath of air. She feels a release of tension in her body, and suddenly her mind feels exhausted.

"Oh, okay. I didn't know. I'm sorry for bothering you, Mrs. Loski."

"Don't apologize, Juli," she says, very sincerely. "I know what a big favor you're doing for me. You're welcome any time. I'll be sure to let you know when Bryce is back."

As she stands there in front of a grateful and smiling Mrs. Loski, who used to look like one of those women who would get picked off of the street to model clothes in catalogues, she notices how weary and fatigued she looks. There are wrinkles on her face where there never used to be, and her blue eyes look sad. She wants to tell her that she doesn't consider this a favor. _I care about your son_, she wants to say to her. _I've cared about your son ever since you moved in here all those years ago_. But she knows that she doesn't need to. Mrs. Loski had always somehow known. That's why she had asked.

ooo

Over the next few days she slowly starts to submerge herself back into her schoolwork. She does this in hopes of regaining her focus. Yet somehow she finds herself always looking out of her window at the Loskis, checking to see if Bryce's BMW was back in the driveway.

"Patsy told me you stopped by the other day," Chet brings up one day, as he browses through the classics at the store. "She said you were looking for Bryce."

She wonders what Chet wants to hear from her. Did he want her to finally admit out loud that she cared about his grandson? That after all of this time, it had never really been over for her?

"I was," she says instead. She has an armful of books to re-shelve and she distracts herself with that. "He wasn't at school."

"She told me what you're doing for her. She's very grateful, and so am I."

She pauses at his words for a just second before continuing. "It's really no problem."

Towards the front of the store, she hears the bell ring as Mrs. Fletcher enters, giving her a small wave.

"I've tried talking to Bryce, myself, you know. I managed to get him to open up a little, but then he shuts down. He's got a lot of anger pent up inside and we're all worried that if he continues to keep it all inside, it will. . . well. That he'll do something reckless."

That's when Juli stops. She stares at the spines of the books in front of her. They become blurry, and she has to blink them back into focus.

"Chet. Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighs. "It wasn't for me to tell."

"But I mean, I could have. . . I don't know, I could have done something. For Bryce."

"Juli," Chet says, very seriously, "this is not your responsibility. Bryce is not your responsibility. I was hoping that, in the midst of all of this, he would finally muster up the courage and talk to you, forge a friendship. Instead he ran away. A trait, I'm sad to say, he inherited from his father."

She surprises herself by whipping her head around, her eyes hot and angry. "Bryce," she says to Chet, "is not Rick. He could never be Rick."

Chet watches her silently. "No," he says softly. "No, he couldn't."

ooo

Bryce Loski had always had the face of an angel. He was the star of the baseball team and a first-place sprinter on the track team. He got good grades. He didn't bully, or tease, or say mean things.

She had dreams about him sometimes. When she woke up she tried to convince herself that she didn't remember them at all, but she always does. Every single detail, she always does.

ooo

It's late when she comes home. It's always a late night when the store gets stock in, and the library at their school had donated boxes and boxes of old books to make room for the new ones they were getting from the district. She had spent nearly four hours going through books. Her hands feel papery and dusty.

She notices Bryce's BMW in the driveway, and suddenly all of her exhaustion has fled away. Her palms become moist against her steering wheel and she finds herself sitting in the driver's seat, watching their house from her rearview mirror. The light is on but she doesn't see him inside. She wonders if he had a good time in LA. She wonders how Lynetta took the news.

Slowly, she gets out of her car. She can hear the rambunctious calls of the crickets in their otherwise silent neighborhood. Inside her own home, she knows her parents are in bed, falling asleep after a long day.

She knows it's late but she feels the need to talk to Bryce – or, hell, even just to _see_ him. But what could she say? Hi, Bryce. Hey, Bryce. How are you? How do you feel? How much do you hate your father? Did you meet anyone in LA? Why won't you talk to Chet? Are you taking Cindy Frisch to the prom? Do you ever still think about when you kissed me at the playground? Do you really hate me?

Do you regret planting the sycamore tree for me?

Do you miss me?

She feels physically paralyzed about the decision she has to make, but then she sees him pass by his window, and she feels like her heart jumps six feet into the air. She stands there, waiting for it to return to her from whatever galactic orbit it reached, and while she waits, half of her prays that he'll look out and see her, and know that she's there.

He doesn't.

She enters her house, quietly sneaking up to her room. Even though she knows she'll get very little sleep tonight, she tries, anyway.

ooo

He only has the guts to look outside his window when he sees her figure turn and walk towards the door. He knows that she works late when they get stock in at the store. That's why he had kept his window open.

He watches her disappear behind the door, and for some reason, he can't help but think about how he's only ever watched her walk away.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Thanks for reading and reviewing, ya'll!

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She spends the entire morning preparing herself for the occasion that she might face Bryce. How funny that she's lived across from him for years and had even shared her first kiss with him, but when she even thinks about facing him again, she feels so unsure of herself that she's sure she might unravel – that is, if it were physically possible.

She tosses outfit after outfit on her bed, feeling frustrated with herself at her sudden concern with detail. When has she ever cared about what she wore? When has she ever cared about what outfit she looked best in?

The very little sleep she'd gotten last night, having been consumed with thoughts of their upcoming encounter, is evident in the heavy bags under her eyes. She runs her fidgety fingers through her long, mousy brown hair. As she looks at herself in the mirror, having settled for a blue shirt that her mother had once said brought out her eyes, she realizes just how plain she looks.

Suddenly she feels incredibly stupid for expecting so much – from him, from her, from their history. Bryce Loski had long moved on from her. Maybe they could be friends, but there was no way they could be more than that.

She repeats that to herself, over and over again, until she's sure she understands.

ooo

When she sees him at school, she notices the dull sheen of his eyes, and the silent and heavy afterthought of how he moves. She sees that he tries his best to go back to his normal self, but Bryce Loski has never really been good at pretending.

She approaches him when he's at his locker, trying not to notice the looks she gets from her classmates. When Troy Vanhoult leaves, his locker neighbor, she hesitantly takes his spot.

"Bryce." Her palms start to sweat and she feels her heart faintly in her ears. "Hey."

When he sees her, he looks surprised for a quick second, but the look quickly turns back to an expression of stoic indifference. "Hey, Juli." He shoves his books into his locker.

"I was wondering if we could talk," she's saying, wondering if her voice really is as far above their heads as it sounds, when suddenly Nick Sansford appears beside them.

"Hey Juli," he says, cutting her off. He spares one fleeting and uninterested glance at Bryce. "I was wondering what your answer was. For the prom."

She knows her moment of bravery is broken the minute Nick arches his eyebrows in expectation, and Bryce closes his locker, walking past them to class. She catches his eye for a quick second as he leaves, and feels a dull ache inside her heart. There's nothing. Not even hate. Just nothing.

She takes a breath to recover. "I'm sorry, Nick. I don't think I'm going to the prom."

Nick slowly nods his head, his face falling in disappointment. She notices this despite the fact that her focus had left the moment Bryce did. "Okay. I accept that. But if you change your mind," he says, plastering on a goofy smile, "I would happily take you back, Juli Baker. Just say the word."

ooo

For the rest of the day she finds no opportunity to talk to Bryce. It was frustrating. When she was avoiding him, he used to be everywhere, and now that she's desperate to talk to him, he is painfully nowhere. When the last bell rang, she reached the parking lot only to see Bryce's black BMW to be the first car to be out of the lot.

When she gets invited to a party at the only beach in town, she's already made up her mind that she won't be going. But as she sits in her room, reading the latest novel her English class had assigned, she finds herself glancing at the clock every few minutes. Her mind is on the fritz. She sighs, closing her book and shutting her eyes. Her thoughts have been teetering back and forth, but they always had one common denominator: Bryce. She keeps about that look he had given her as he passed her and Nick Sansford at his locker. So indecipherable, yet disappointing. It ate away at her.

Suddenly, she puts her book down and starts pulling on her jeans. She decides to go on the off-chance that Bryce might be there. She's almost sure he's going to be. Tom Grady is holding the party, Bryce's teammate on the baseball team.

She quietly sneaks past her parents' room, holding her car keys in her hand.

When she gets there, it's about 12:30. The weather is nice and warm, even though she comes late. The water is calm, and there's a slight breeze. In the distance she sees the bonfire and the large canopies, and she can hear the loud music from the speaker system they've set up. It isn't a large party, but she's sure their entire senior class is here.

In the sea of her rambunctious, drunk classmates and their red plastic cups (they had about three kegs, from what she could see), she tries to look for Bryce, but instead finds Diana.

"Juli," she says, looking genuinely surprised, after having taken a sip of her beer. Her eyes look glazed over and her cheeks are flushed. "I didn't know you went to parties."

A boy brushes past her with a cup in each hand, bobbing along to the music. "I don't," she admits.

"I thought so. Well, I'm glad to see you living it up for once," Diana winks, giggling, before walking past her to a few members of the football team. As Juli keeps walking through the crowd, the music gets louder and the air gets hotter. She remembers how she doesn't do well with crowds, so eventually she dodges her way out, moving towards the ocean.

She takes deep breaths, and is caught in between hoping that Bryce is here and praying that he isn't. She stands there for a few minutes, clearing her head, before coming to the conclusion that she should just go home. What had she had in mind, anyway? That she could finally have that soul-searching conversation with Bryce, with hip-hop music blaring in the background and their drunken classmates pressing up against them?

She's turned and has already started walking back to her car when she suddenly hears yelling above the music. She's terrified that she recognizes the voice, even though she knows there's no way she could possibly know who it is. The crowd has stopped moving and has frozen, their attention directed towards the front of the party. Juli, on pure instinct, walks back and slowly pushes her way through.

It's Bryce. He's yelling, and drunk. His old friend Garrett is on the other side, in the same deplorable condition. Not one person is holding them back or trying to calm them down. Instead, they've turned the music down. She spies Tom Grady to the side with a beer can in his hand, watching on with an amused look on his face, and Juli feels disgusted at whom Bryce calls "his friends."

Before she knows it she's catapulted herself through the crowd, trying to reach Bryce as fast as she can. His voice is so loud that she can hear it ringing in her ears, like thunder, and suddenly it dawns on her about what they're fighting about when she hears her name. She can't believe it. She's so shocked she almost freezes where she is. They're fighting about her.

She'd known that Garrett never liked her. He and Bryce used to be best friends up until the eighth grade, when everything had started. She'd heard Garrett call her and her family retarded by association in the stacks, and had painfully stood by as Bryce agreed and laughed along. After that, she'd heard from Diana that Bryce and Garrett were no longer friends – because of her. All because of her.

At the time, she'd thought they would grow out of it. Girls were known for holding grudges and cutting people out of social groups, not boys. But eighth grade turned into ninth grade, ninth grade turned into tenth, and tenth turned into eleventh. Come senior year, the most they had ever spoken to each other was during PE when they had been paired up to do drills. In a way, Juli had never understood it. Wasn't it over? Weren't she and Bryce – whatever they had been – over?

"I don't blame your dad, you know," Garrett was spitting. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it? You both have terrible taste in women."

Juli throws herself at Bryce as he's lunging forward. His drink spills all over her but she doesn't care. "Bryce, stop it," she whispers to him.

When he sees her, she feels as if he doesn't really _see_ her. His eyes are icy and clouded over with rage. His empty red cup topples down near their feet and she hears whispers erupt all around them.

"Get out of my way, Juli," he lowly says to her.

It's then that she realizes that she is terrified of him – this Bryce. This new Bryce that was angry, and drunk, and violent. This wasn't the Bryce she'd kissed on the playground, or the same Bryce that had planted the sycamore tree in her front yard. This wasn't the Bryce that she knew and dreamed about.

It scares her to think that maybe the old Bryce was gone. That, maybe, this was who he really was now.

"No," she says, trying to hide the quiver in her voice. "Let it go, Bryce."

He stares at her, long and hard. She wonders if he's trying to scare her off like this. If he had it in him to hit her, or shove her away. But no. No. Bryce was not Rick. Bryce was not his father.

She doesn't know how it happens, but the crowd slowly moves. Garrett, sniggering, yells out, "Hey, fuck you, Bryce," before disappearing. But she isn't aware of any of this. She stares back at him for what seems like days, until he finally closes his eyes and says, quietly, "Juli."

And that's it. That's all he says.

"Come with me," Juli says, and she stays with him as they move past the crowd. As she looks down she suddenly has the urge to hold his hand, but instead folds her arms across her chest. This isn't the time, or the place, and she knows that.

During the drive back home, neither of them say a word. Juli tries to veil the awkwardness by turning on the radio. Bryce is in the passenger seat, his head turned towards the window. She gets the hint that he doesn't want to talk. She turns the volume up louder, just a little.

As she's driving her mind is swimming from what had just happened. Had they really been fighting over her? How did it all start, anyway? And why didn't his friends do anything? What was she going to tell Mrs. Loski when she dropped off her son at one in the morning, drunk out of his mind?

That's when she makes a decision. At the stoplight, she fishes out her cell phone and dials in the Loskis' home phone. As expected, Mrs. Loski answers, her voice worried and full of concern. She had been waiting up for Bryce.

"Hi, Mrs. Loski, this is Juli. I'm sorry to be calling so late but Bryce and I were studying for Calculus tonight and it got to be really late, and he sort of dozed off. I don't want to wake him. Would it be okay if he just stayed the night?"

Mrs. Loski sighs with relief over the phone. Juli bites her lip, wondering if Mrs. Loski would believe such a lie. Beside her, she knows that Bryce is listening intently to her phone call.

"Okay, Juli. Of course he can. Thank you for calling."

Juli sets her phone beside her, silently sighing. Their street is coming up, and she knows her parents are already sound asleep.

"Thanks," Bryce tells her.

Juli keeps her eyes on the road, her hands tensely clasped on the wheel. "Don't mention it."

ooo

She feels stupid that she feels so nervous bringing him up to her room. She flips on her light switch and suddenly she regrets not having cleaned up more, even though she isn't exactly a messy person. She wonders if he can tell how uneasy she is. She wonders if he is, too, or whether he's too drunk to tell the difference. If he is, he does a good job of hiding it. She's seen plenty of drunks and so far, with exception of almost violently assaulting Garrett on the beach, he has been, by far, the most tame.

"You have a nice room," Bryce comments, and she thanks him as she puts her keys down on her desk.

She's never had a boy sleep over before, so she has no idea what the proper etiquette is. Should she take the floor? But she didn't have any extra sheets or a sleeping bag. Would it be so terrible if they shared the same bed? Suddenly she regrets her parents having turned her brothers' room into a storage room after they'd left to pursue their music.

"I don't have a sleeping bag, so I guess we're going to have to share the bed."

He nods his head. He doesn't seem nervous at all. She feels a pang of jealousy as her mind automatically jumps to the conclusion that he's probably had much more experience with co-ed sleepovers than she has.

"The bathroom's just over there. Do you. . .?"

"Yeah. Sure."

He gets up and goes to the bathroom. Juli can't help it – she quickly inspects herself in the mirror. She smoothes her hair out with her hands. Then, suddenly he's out, and it's obvious he's washed his face and has tried to sober himself up. She goes in after him to change into her pajamas.

When she comes out, he's already taken up one side of the bed. His shoes are on the floor, and his eyes are closed. She sighs, turning off the light and getting in beside him. As she lies there, staring at the ceiling, she feels her heart moving erratically underneath her chest. She wonders if he can feel it, too.

How could she possibly fall asleep, with the boy she's longed for nearly her entire life just on the other side of her bed?

She listens to his breathing to see if he's already asleep.

"Why were you there?"

His voice is low and calm, and it makes her hair stand up on end.

"I don't know," she says, softly. "I guess I wanted to see how it felt like."

He's quiet for a very long minute. "So how did it feel?"

Juli laughs a little to herself. "Crowded. Loud. Hot. Like something completely out of my realm."

He sighs. She feels how warm he is next to her, and breathes in how he smells. She has never felt this way before – so out of control, and uninhibited. At the same time, she does everything she can not to reach out and touch him or cross the invisible barrier between them on this bed. '_You've been brave enough already, Juli_,' she thinks to herself. '_Now be smart._'

"You don't belong there, Juli. You don't belong with any of them. You never did."

She lets his words sink in, and at first she's confused as to what he means. With Bryce Loski, she's always so prepared to believe the worst in his sentiments towards her. She doesn't know why. Maybe it's what she wants to believe, so that she can finally move on. Having him hate her was better than having him not care. Being angry with him was better than longing after him.

"Neither do you."

He chuckles, and she feels her bed shake a little from the movement in his chest. "I do a really good job at it, though, don't I?"

Even though it's dark, the moonlight shines through her old, ratty curtains. Her eyes trace the faint outline of his body next to her. After a thoughtful minute, she licks her lips and takes the plunge.

"Everybody's worried about you, Bryce. Your mom, and Chet." She pauses, and then quietly adds: "I'm worried about you, too."

There's a long, sobering moment of silence between them, and he says nothing. She panics that she's gone and ruined the moment by saying the wrong thing, by being too forward.

"I'm glad they're getting a divorce," he finally says. "I couldn't have left for college knowing that I'd left my mom alone with him."

Juli stares at the back of his head, fighting everything inside of her to reach out and touch him. She relishes the feeling of his nearness, and the fact that they're finally speaking, a real conversation. A meaningful one. Not just empty niceties because they both just happened to be taking out the trash at the same time, but something honest, something real.

"I'm sorry about what Garrett said. It's not true. You're not like your father at all."

"Yeah," he says, a bitter edge to his voice. "Because that would be tragic."

Juli stays silent, not knowing how to respond.

"I know he's an asshole, Juli. I've known it for a long time – everybody has. You don't have to pretend. All of my life I've watched people bend over backwards to kiss my dad's ass, and I'm sick of it. But not you, or your family. I've always. . . envied that. I mean, you were always civil, but you never laid it on thick just to get him to like you."

She wanted to say this was because they had integrity. Maybe Mr. Loski was an all right human being, but he had the tendency of being a dick, and making off-color comments that he thought he could just laugh off in the name of humor, despite the fact that you could tell he actually meant them. Her dad had always told her that being nice to people and liking them were two separate things. You could be nice to someone but you didn't have to like them. You could like someone but that didn't always mean you treated them like it.

"Thanks, I guess." She bites her lip. "But Bryce, Mr. Loski. . . your dad, isn't all bad. Nobody is. He loves you."

For a very long time, Bryce says nothing. Juli begins to suspect that he's fallen asleep, before he turns towards her. Suddenly, they are face to face, their faces so near that it makes her breath hitch in her throat.

"What if I turn out like him, Juli? What if, later on, I become just like him?"

She hears the pain in his voice, the self-depreciation and doubt. She's never found it more painful to stay away from him than at this very moment, right now. Right now, for so many reasons, she wants to hold him and never let go.

She swallows hard.

"That's never going to happen, Bryce. I promise you."

Her heart breaks for him, for his sadness. But she finds it hard to dwell on this when he suddenly reaches out and brushes her hair from her face. The way his fingertips accidentally graze her skin makes every nerve in her body hum.

"I don't deserve you, Juli," he whispers to her, but before she can fully understand what he means, he's closed the small distance between them and has kissed her.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Thanks for reading!

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When he gets to LA, he realizes why Lynetta likes it so much: it is nothing like home. LA was big, and crowded, noisy, and busy. It was easy to get yourself lost in it. Bryce was never one for trends, so he doesn't share Lynetta's enthusiasm for her new metropolitan, urban home. Even he can see that amongst all of the tan, thin blondes, there isn't much substance here.

"Hey, little bro," Lynetta greets him. She's wearing cut-off shorts and a t-shirt. While it was still beginning to warm up back home, LA was already in the middle of their constant summer. "You must be starved. Let's get something to eat."

Lynetta takes him to an old diner that's open 24/7. It's a place he doesn't expect LA to have, and a place he doesn't expect Lynetta to like at all – just because it looks so much like the diner they have back in their hometown. Quaint and homey.

"How's Mom?"

Lynetta never asks about their dad. She estranged herself from him the moment she went off to college but still kept a tight bond with their mom. Bryce couldn't say he blamed her. Lynetta had always had a tense relationship with their father, one that had exploded the night they'd had dinner with the Bakers and he had accused Mike and Matt Baker of being drug dealers.

When he thinks about that night, he feels shame, and anger. He had been so young but that night he'd gotten a look at what was inside his father: something ugly, and rotten.

"She's okay. Better on some days, worse on others."

Lynetta nods. He doesn't know how much she knows about what's going on at home but with Lynetta, it seems like she just knows everything. It was this mystical, incredibly annoying thing about her.

"I call her sometimes but we know Mom likes to sugarcoat things. She thinks we're still eight, that we still think the world is wonderful and perfect." Lynetta says this dryly but Bryce can see that it hurts her that Mom can never get past trying to protect their father from looking like the bad guy – even though he is, and has been, for a very long time.

"How's Juli?" Lynetta takes a sip out of her milkshake before she puts on a little smile. Towards the front of the diner, a group of college students come in, wearing flip flops and UCLA shirts. "Have you told her you love her yet?"

He answers her before he thinks about it. "I don't love her."

Despite himself, this comes out in a quick, terse tone. It wasn't something he ever practiced saying out loud. It wasn't something he thought he ever needed to.

"Right." She gives him a dry look. "Denial doesn't suit you anymore now that you're almost graduating high school, by the way, baby bro."

He shakes his head.

"Lynetta, I didn't come here to talk about Juli," he says. It's true. He keeps telling himself that for once, his mind is far away from Juli Baker. For once.

"Okay," she says, putting aside her milkshake. Her face looks serious. "So, talk."

ooo

Bryce stays with Lynetta for a couple of days. She lets him sleep at her dorm, since her roommate was studying abroad somewhere in Switzerland. That night he filled Lynetta in on what was happening at home with their parents while she listened intently, and for once, she said nothing. She just sat and listened.

He doesn't do much in LA. Lynetta has class and he makes an effort to see the campus and walk around, but he doesn't have the taste for LA. All it does is make him think of back home. Yet, he walks into the campus store and buys his mom a university sweatshirt and a magnet. He knows how much she loves souvenirs.

Lynetta gives him a ride to the airport the night he has to leave. The ride is eerily silent – they had never exactly had that kind of a talking relationship. After a few minutes she settles on putting on a CD of a new band she had seen last week. But as he's unloading his duffel bag from the trunk, she speaks up.

"You should tell her, you know."

He looks up at her, confused. Around her, the sparkling lights of LA are still in the background. He thinks of how she so obviously belongs, but also knows better. In her dorm he had seen the pictures of their hometown, taped up on her mirror, including one of their mom and the two of them, with Lynetta holding her hand and him in her arm, standing next to her prize-winning roses.

"Girls like Juli don't come around often," she says to him. "Before you know it, it'll be too late, and then you're not going to have a choice but to live with that."

He shifts his luggage in his hands, and for a long time, stays silent. Lynetta opens the car door and is about to get inside when he finally speaks up. He talks over the faint purr of the engine.

"Lyn," he calls out. He hesitates. "What if it's already too late?"

Lynetta pauses for a second, just looking at him. "Well, she's still around, isn't she?"

ooo

When he gets back home, he finds himself constantly looking back at the Baker's house – at Juli's window, wondering if she's there. His mother had mentioned to him that she'd stopped by looking for him and he has this undeniable urge to go up to the Bakers' doorstep to Juli and ask her why. It's been years since Juli Baker has gone up to his doorstep to look for him. Years.

The next day at school, he gets his wish.

Juli approaches him when he's at his locker. Despite being home, he'd had a rough night. He hasn't been sleeping well lately. Sometimes at night he hears his mom crying and it bothers him knowing that there isn't anything he can do.

She's wearing that blue shirt that he likes, the one that brings out her eyes. Juli has these great, warm brown eyes that almost look like sun-soaked honey when it's caught in the sunlight. It's one of those little details that he's managed to hold onto, despite the fact that they had spent the past few years avoiding each other.

"Bryce. Hey," she says. He notices that her cheeks are a little flushed and she looks slightly uneasy. He finds himself wondering why before he remembers the last time they'd talked – and how well that had gone. Suddenly he feels like an ass.

"Hey Juli," he says. He thinks about apologizing for that night. She had taken it the wrong way and he wanted to apologize.

"I was wondering if we could talk," she's saying, trying to smile a little, and he feels his spirits begin to lift – when Nick Sansford suddenly appears and interrupts her.

"Hey Juli, I was wondering what your answer was," he says. "For the prom."

Bryce looks between them, between Juli and Nick, and decides that this isn't the time. When had Nick Sansford asked Juli to prom, anyway? Did Juli even like him?

His jaw tenses as he closes his locker and brushes past Nick and Juli. He can't help but meet Juli's eye as he does, though, and he feels that tight feeling in his chest as he walks away. Every silent, agonizing bit of him wishes he were in Nick Sansford's shoes, asking Juli Baker to the prom. Even if it were for the second time. Even if she were going to say no.

He hates himself for that.

ooo

The moment he'd heard about Juli Baker getting into Stanford, he wasn't surprised. He shouldn't have been, after all. Nobody should have. Juli was the smartest girl in the school and she deserved Stanford.

Chet had told him when he'd driven him to their local hardware store to get more nails and supplies to fix the broken cabinet in the kitchen. When he did, so many thoughts had popped up in his head – that he should congratulate her, that Juli Baker deserved amazing things and they were finally coming to her, but also that Juli might be leaving. He tried to tell himself that this was no big deal. Almost everyone he knew was leaving their hometown in pursuit of higher education, including him. That was just the way things were.

But it was Juli. The girl he'd lived across from for as long as he could remember. The first girl he'd ever kissed. The girl he planted the sycamore tree for.

The reality dawned on him that he just wasn't sure he was ready for that yet.

"Time flies when you sit idle, doesn't it?" Chet had sighed to himself, looking out of the window. He had said it to himself but Bryce had known exactly what he'd meant.

ooo

A few nights later he found himself at the used bookstore he knew Juli worked at.

He had been running errands for his mom when he'd seen her truck in the parking lot. What happened after that was a hazy, discombobulated blur. All he really knew was that he had done it on pure impulse, that his mind had been two steps behind his feet.

He found her in the classics section. He hadn't even made the conscious decision to find her, yet he found her anyway. The shelves and shelves of books seemed blurry and muddled to him, endless and confusing, and when he found her it was like coming up for air.

As he neared her he felt his heart beat louder and faster. He noticed that her hair had gotten longer. He wondered if it still felt as soft it did when he'd first touched it, out on the playground all of those years ago.

He hadn't noticed how dry his mouth had gotten until he'd opened it to speak.

"Hey," he said.

As she turned around he registered the surprise on her face, and then the faint color that crept across her cheeks. In a way, he loved the effect his presence had on her. But it tortured him, too.

"Hey," she said, a little taken aback.

"Chet told me about you, and Stanford," he found himself saying.

Her look of surprise turned into one of embarrassment. She glanced away. "Yeah, I guess my parents told him."

Inside his mind, things started to click. Of course Juli hadn't been the one to tell people she had been accepted to Stanford. That was exactly like her. So humble, and modest, and good. So undeservedly under the radar.

Knowing all of that made him ache.

"Have you decided whether you're going?"

She hesitated when she answered, biting her lip. "Not yet. I mean. . . I'm still kind of wrapping my mind around it, too."

He knew that her family wasn't well-off or anything, but he also knew that Juli would win any scholarship thrown her way. He didn't know why he did this, especially with the wrenching feeling in his gut every time he thought of her leaving, but without thinking, he told her that he thought that she should go. To Stanford.

He didn't think to expect what would happen after that.

She stared at him with a blank look on her face, before he watched her brown eyes flash with anger and hurt. She took the book she was holding and angrily shoved it into the shelf in front of her, before whipping her head around back to him again.

"Look, if you don't want to see me around that badly," Juli spat at him, "then why wait for me to make a decision? Why don't _you_ leave?"

He stood there for a moment, stunned, before fully taking in her words. He felt himself immediately tense with anger. He wanted to explain, that it was all just a misunderstanding, but the way she looked at him. . . he was familiar with that look. Like Juli Baker wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, for the third time in his life.

So he did the only thing he could do. He tore himself away from those livid brown eyes and he just walked away.

ooo

He's long known that he doesn't deserve Juli Baker. So, he stopped trying to deserve her and tried to get over her instead.

He did this with Cindy Frisch. Cindy Frisch was the equivalent of what Shelly Stalls would have been in high school: popular, beautiful, and not exactly on the Honor Roll.

It was easy being with her. It didn't take much. He didn't have to impress her, or challenge himself to surprise her, to keep her entertained. They didn't stay up late at night talking on the phone about philosophy and life. She didn't have much of an opinion to contribute, nor was she an enigma. He tried to convince himself that this was what he wanted – what he should want, what he would be insane _not_ to want. But every time he was with Cindy – beautiful, vacant Cindy – there was always that single lingering thought about Juli in the back of his mind.

Juli was like a cobweb. The more he tried to get rid of her, the more he felt her all around him. It was completely maddening.

One night he was making out with Cindy Frisch in her driveway when he opened his eyes to see Juli Baker some distance away, watching them. She looked surprised, and stunned. And then: betrayed. She stood there for a few seconds before turning and running away. He waited to feel some kind of pride in himself, the high of some kind of accomplishment. He had finally shown Juli Baker that he was over her. He should be celebrating. He should be happy. He should be ready to move on – _really_ move on.

Instead all he felt was emptiness, and the disgust of what he had stooped to.

That night he visited the old playground where he had kissed her years ago. He wanted to rid himself of her, but it seemed like the harder he tried, the more she planted roots inside his mind. There she was, Juli Baker, torturing him, and she would probably never even have a clue.

ooo

Before his buddy Tom Grady's beach party, he comes home to find his dad's car sloppily parked in the driveway. His grandfather is away visiting Marcie, Bryce's aunt, who lives on the other side of town, and Bryce had been busy putting away stock at work, leaving his mother all alone.

"Shit," he mutters to himself. He rushes inside the house.

He gets to the kitchen as fast as he can. He doesn't even know if he's closed the front door behind him. He can already hear him – he's drunk, and yelling so loud that Bryce is sure everyone from the neighborhood can hear.

When he gets to the kitchen, he sees his mother on the other side, crying. He goes to her, getting in between her and his father.

"Get out, Bryce. This is between me and your mother," Rick spits at him.

He's seen his father drunk before but ever since the divorce started, he's been getting worse. Constantly showing up drunk, threatening his mother enough that Bryce had consulted her lawyer about filing a restraining order for her. He should have expected this – and for that, Bryce feels angry at himself. He shouldn't have left his mom alone. He should have known his father would come over and fuck it all up.

"Dad," he says, in a low voice. "Get out."

He has a flashback of when he'd first stood up for his mom. He was fifteen. His father had hit him so hard he couldn't go back to school until the swelling on his face had gone down. The next day his dad came home and told him he had bought him a cell phone – not just any cell phone, but the newest and coolest – to show how sorry he was.

"Don't you dare tell me to get the fuck out," he yells. "This is _my_ house, goddammit!"

"Not anymore it isn't," Bryce seethes. "You gave up that right a long time ago."

"You better watch your mouth, son," he says, getting so close to him that he could almost taste the alcohol on his breath. "I am your father. I deserve some _respect_."

"Oh yeah? The same respect you treat Mom with?" he yells. "Or Grandpa? Or Lynnetta? Give me a break, Dad. Just save yourself the embarrassment and get out now."

Bryce's father curses at him, before he turns to his mom. "You see what you've done, Patsy? You've ruined our family. Absolutely fucking ruined it, and it's all your fault!"

"Get out, Rick," his mother says, in a calm and low voice. "Get. Out. Or I will call the police, I swear to God, and you will spend the night in a cell."

Muttering more curse words under his breath, he finally stumbles through the kitchen. Bryce makes sure he makes it out of the door. He doesn't care if he makes it off the lawn, but he sure as hell makes sure he's out of the house.

When he walks back to the kitchen, everything is silent. It's the kind of silence that he's had to bear for the last couple of months. The deafening kind of silence, the kind that rings in your ears and never lets you forget exactly how much everything has changed.

His mother washes her face in the kitchen sink. He finally gets to look around the kitchen and he sees a few broken glasses. He hopes she was the one to break them this time around, but he knows better.

"I'm sorry, Bryce," she says to him. She's dabbing her face with a towel, and she has never seemed so frail yet so strong at the same time. If he were a stranger that just walked into this house, he would have never thought the woman standing in front of him was the same woman in all the framed pictures – the beautiful blond woman, with perfect hair and a perfect smile, with a seemingly perfect family.

It occurred to him that they had spent so much time trying to build up the image of a perfect family that they hadn't seen the rotting underbelly, the imminent and ugly reality they would all have to face eventually. In those pictures they all seemed so perfectly coordinated, with not a single strand of hair out of place, that anybody who knew anything had to know better. Anything that perfect had to be covering up some kind of ugliness. Anything that perfect had to be an illusion.

"Don't be, Mom," he says. He grips the end of the counter and tries to calm himself down. "Dad's an ass."

For the first time, she doesn't speak up in his defense. She stays quiet in agreement, before picking up the glass of wine on the counter. She holds it close to her but doesn't drink.

"Things are going to get better, Bryce."

Her voice is soft but reassuring. He can see her reflection in the kitchen window, her lips turned up in a halfhearted, broken smile. "Please trust me."

"I do, Mom," he sighs. "I trust you."


	4. Chapter 4

When he shows up at Tom Grady's party, he shows up with the conscious goal of letting himself go. He's never been much of a drinker, but tonight he tells himself that he needs it. He needs to forget. His mother, his father, Juli – everything. He wants to disconnect himself from everything that is weighing him down, or else he knows he'll drown.

He doesn't socialize much at the party. He finds it all too hectic. He pushes through the gyrating crowd and feels the loud music pulsating in his ears, and he concentrates on chugging the cold beer down his throat, minding his own business. The faces are all a blur. He feels a cool, fleeting breeze on his face. He just wants to feel nothing.

He knows that he should have seen all of this coming. For a real long time he had been hoping for the explosion of tension and truth at his house, for the delicate house of cards his parents had built to finally come tumbling down. But even though he had counted down the months and the years until his mother had finally had enough of his father's bullshit, it didn't mean he was any more ready when it did eventually happen. Life was just funny that way. You spend half of your life waiting for something, and when it finally happens, it still knocks you off of your feet, leaving you in the dust, trying to catch your breath.

"Well, if it isn't Bryce Loski."

He slowly looks up to see Garrett. They used to be friends, but he can only vaguely remember why they had ever been friends in the first place.

He nods at him in acknowledgement but doesn't say a word. He keeps on drinking.

"So. I heard about your mom and dad. That's too bad," Garrett says, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. Bryce can tell he's just as drunk as he himself is, if not worse. "I guess you are your father's son, huh? Loski men just don't know how to keep their women satisfied."

His somber train of thought shatters, and he feels himself tense up, but he tries to play it cool as he takes another sip from his cup. In the back of his mind, he thinks about how many seconds it would take to pummel Garrett straight into the ground.

"Shut up, Garrett."

Garrett laughs and raises his voice, calling attention to them. "Oh, come on, man! Where is Juli Baker, anyway? Was she too good for you? Except – you know what," he says, "Juli was _smart_. She broke it off with you even before anything got started." He laughs some more.

Bryce is only mildly aware that everyone around him has stopped moving and is now watching them. His hand has clenched beside him. Garrett is smirking, looking him straight in the eyes, challenging him.

"But I mean, Juli Baker out of anyone should know damaged goods when she sees them, right?"

He's lunged at Garrett before he even knows it, but Garrett dodges him just in time.

"Whoa, big boy. Still got a thing for her, do you?"

"Why don't you just shut your fucking mouth, Garrett?" he spits. "You have no idea what you're talking about. Not a clue."

Faintly, he sees Garrett's eyes flash. Like an ancient grudge finally washing up to the surface.

"Don't kid yourself, Bryce. You think people don't have eyes? You're even stupider now than you were before."

Bryce tells himself to walk away. Walk away. He isn't going to do this. Not with Garrett, not here, not anywhere. Not over this.

But just as he's turning away, to leave the party and head out to his car, Garrett speaks up again.

"I don't blame your dad, you know," he taunts, yelling over the music. "The apple doesn't fall very far from the tree. You both have terrible taste in women."

He doesn't know what happens then. All he knows that he is no longer in control of himself, and that he is utterly overcome with the violent urge to punch Garrett's face in until he doesn't recognize it anymore. His body turns and lunges forward again, and Garrett is cornered in by the crowd, but he's suddenly stopped by something that hadn't been there before. Something warm. Juli.

He feels something wet splash between the two of them, but he doesn't notice. She's so close he can feel her cool breath against his face. She whispers something to him, and it's moments before her words reach his ears. "Bryce. Stop it."

He wants to shove her out of the way. What was she doing here, anyway?

"Get out of my way, Juli," he tells her. He wants it to be a warning. He wants her to take him seriously, just this once, in the way that he means. He wants her to get out and not look back. He doesn't want her to see what he's about to do.

But as he's looking into her eyes, big with worry and concern, he sees a hint of fear. He recognizes this look. He used to see it on his mother's face whenever his parents fought. As a boy, he used to go to sleep at night with this look burned into his memory, swearing to himself that he would never turn out like his father.

"No," she says to him. Her voice is shaky. "Let it go, Bryce. Please."

In that moment, he wants the world wants to turn inside-out. The heavy amalgam in his chest is making it incredibly hard to swallow down the thick clot lodged in his throat. His hands are still tightly clenched into fists and the blood in his veins is hot, and pounding. Everybody is whispering. He looks into her eyes, and he feels his anger slowly sinking inside him like a lead anchor. He hears a white noise in his ears.

He can only vaguely hear Garrett cuss him out.

He closes his eyes. His mouth is painfully dry. God, please let this be a dream.

But then he feels Juli's hand on his chest. She feels so warm, and real. This has to be a dream. It has to be.

"Juli," he hoarsely says.

He needs so badly for this to be a dream but for her to be real.

"Come with me," she suddenly says to him, and he hesitantly follows her out of the crowd, and out of the party. They walk in silence, side by side, with the crowd of eyes following them off of the beach. They cross the parking lot to her car, where they wordlessly get in.

He wants to say something – anything. But his head feels like it's floating yet at the same time tied to the earth; like he can't touch her, even if he wanted to. He wants to ask her what she's doing here. He wants to ask her if she thinks less of him. He wants to ask her why she didn't just let him beat the shit out of Garrett. He would have stuck up for her this time around, he was braver – wasn't that something that she wanted?

He has this unrealistic expectation that she'll say something, but she stays quiet as she drives. She even turns up the radio, like she doesn't want to get into a conversation at all.

God, he wants to know what she's thinking. As he sits there, watching the scenery blur past his window, he's as anxious as hell. And just as he's about to ask her as she rolls to a stop in front of a red light, she takes out her cell phone and begins to dial in a number. When she speaks, he freezes in his seat.

"Hi, Mrs. Loski. This is Juli."

He can hear his mother's worried murmur on the other line and he closes his eyes tight, swallowing the shame and self-hatred in his throat. As if his mother needed to know that her only son had gone out to almost drunkenly beat up his former best friend. But what Juli says surprises him, and leaves him almost stunned as she ends the call and puts her phone down. He doesn't know why it surprises him, either – Juli was too good, too conscientious of other people's feelings to out him like that. She had lied on his behalf to protect his mother, and him, too.

He recognizes their street as Juli turns a nearby corner. The houses are quiet and asleep, perfectly calm and tranquil.

"Thanks," he heavily tells her. He wants to tell her more, but he can't find the words, so he settles for the uneasy silence that comes after.

"Don't mention it," she says. She doesn't look at him once.

ooo

In the bathroom, he washes his face and tries to sober up. He looks at himself in the mirror, his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed from intoxication, and he wishes he were sober. His first time inside Juli Baker's room, and he's drunk. Not so drunk that he should be worried about throwing up on her bed, but drunk enough that he worries what he might do if she's near enough. He's never practiced being near her and controlling himself. All he's ever done is stay away, for precisely that reason. Whenever he was around her, it was hard to be sure of anything except that he just couldn't believe how much he wanted her.

When he gets out, he settles on one side of her bed as she takes her turn in the bathroom. Her bed is comfortable, and it smells just like her. He feels at ease and nervous, all at the same time. The minute she turns off the light and slips in beside him, he feels as if his heart has taken up the whole room.

They lay there for a few minutes in silence. He wonders if she's already fallen asleep.

"Why were you there?" he asks her. He makes sure his voice is low and quiet, so he doesn't wake up her parents.

Her voice is soft, in a whisper. "I don't know. I guess I wanted to see how it felt like."

He thinks about what she said. He had never seen Juli as someone who belonged in the superficial cliques in high school, and he liked that. She was so much more than that – transcendental, even. So damn above it all.

He forgets sometimes that she's just a teenager, just like him.

"So how did it feel?"

She laughs quietly. God, he loves her laugh. "Crowded. Loud. Hot. Like something completely out of my realm."

He lets out a breath of air, relieved. He tries to sort out the tangled jumble of thoughts inside his head – to convert them into what he's always wanted to say to her. Something meaningful. The truth.

He thinks about that night the Bakers had dinner with them, the night he'd watched her from across the room talking about perpetual motion with her dad and Chet. He thinks about her up in the sycamore, alone but free, untouchable. Nothing about Juli had ever jived with what he knew about the world. Nothing.

"You don't belong there, Juli," he says. He just wants to say, '_You're better. You're too good for them.'_ "You don't belong with any of them. You never did."

When she responds, she's serious – and what she says surprises him.

"Neither do you."

He lets out an empty laugh. "I do a really good job at it, though, don't I?"

"Everybody's worried about you, Bryce. Your mom, and Chet." She takes a slight pause, then, as if hesitating. "I'm worried about you, too."

He closes his eyes. So she knows. Of course, he should have known – Chet must have said something, and he knows for a fact that his mom found a confidant in Mrs. Baker. He almost wants to ask her how long she's known – if that was why she was suddenly coming around. Bryce Loski needed help, his parents' marriage was falling apart. Was that the only reason Juli was speaking to him again? As a general _good deed_? Because she pitied him?

"I'm glad they're getting a divorce," he says instead, after a long pause. "I couldn't have left for college knowing that I'd left my mom alone with him."

Juli then apologizes for what Garrett had said about him, comparing him to his father. "It's not true," she reassures him, softly. "You're not like your father at all."

If only Juli knew the years Bryce had spent looking up to him – hanging on his every word, needing his approval. When he was younger, there was nothing better than growing up to be exactly like his father. Now he hates himself for how long he turned a blind eye to how he treated people, and how he'd just accepted it as something that came with age and experience. He knows better now.

He tells Juli about how he knows his father is an asshole, and she responds by saying that his father isn't all bad, that nobody is. Typical Juli. His father had been such a jackass to their family, and yet here she was, telling him that his father wasn't all bad.

"He loves you," she softly reminds him.

He sees both fear and comfort in that statement, all at the same time. He doesn't know if he believes it, but he wants to. He just doesn't know if he can.

Suddenly, Bryce turns around, so that he's facing her, lying side by side. Her face is so close he can hear her breath hitch against his face from surprise.

"What if I turn out like him, Juli?" he asks her, searching her eyes through the darkness. "What if, later on, I become just like him?"

"That's never going to happen, Bryce," Juli whispers. He can see her looking right into his eyes from the moonlight seeping in through her flimsy curtains. "I promise you."

Suddenly, he reaches out and brushes her hair from her face. He feels lightheaded, like his head has disconnected from his body and is now floating somewhere above them. His fingers skim her face, and he sees her eyes flicker, staring into his. The moment he touches her, he feels warmth, and electricity. Does she feel it too?

"I don't deserve you, Juli," he hears himself say, before he leaning in to kiss her.

And as soon as he does, he can't remember why he'd ever stopped himself from kissing her in the first place.


	5. Chapter 5

Juli wakes up to her parents playing music downstairs. Every Saturday morning they liked to play their old records while her mother, humming and singing along, cooked a late breakfast and her father put the base down for his new painting outside. It feels and looks like any other Saturday morning, with the scent of simmering bacon and the soundtrack of her parents' youth filling the air – until she suddenly sits up in bed, last night's events dawning on her. She looks beside her only to see a note.

_Snuck back into my house earlier this morning. Didn't want to wake you. Thanks for everything._

_-B_

She reads it once. Then again. Then again. As she sits in bed with the note in her hand, her heart moving a few beats faster than it should, she feels relief combined with something else more unsettling. She replays last night in her head. They had kissed, here, right on her bed. And now it was morning, the harsh light of reality washing over her, and all she was left with was this cryptic note from the boy who lived across the street from her, the boy she had rescued from the beach, the boy that she had loved for as long as she could remember.

She slowly gets up to watch his house from her window. Everywhere around them, their neighbors are already going about their day, with the sun out and shining – but the Loski house seems just as muted as the night before. His car is in the driveway, so she assumes he had gotten back to the beach somehow to pick it up.

Did he remember everything? Was he embarrassed? Did he regret it?

What did it all mean?

Once again, Juli Baker finds herself staring after Bryce Loski with a million unanswered questions. Suddenly she feels the amalgam of her many different emotions curl up into a ball of energy inside her and she can't stand still. Sliding her curtains closed, she heads downstairs for breakfast, eager not to spend the day at home waiting for him to come to her.

"Good morning, Juli," her mom greets her. Juli gives her a kiss on the cheek and grabs the milk carton in the refrigerator. Every Saturday at the Bakers' was a break from the routine, grab-and-go weekday – everybody slept in and slowed down to have breakfast at the same time. Her mother prided herself in this tradition, which is why she always provided a hearty breakfast.

"You were out late last night," she says, over the sizzle of the pan.

"I just checked out a party. Couldn't focus," Juli says quietly, settling on the table with a glass of milk. She sneaks a glance out of the kitchen window at her father, who was in their backyard, prepping his canvas.

"Did something happen?" Her mother is examining her, flipping the eggs onto the platter. "You don't look too well."

"Just had a late night, that's all," she says.

Her mother only nods, but Juli can see that she is less than convinced. "Breakfast is ready. Please go and call your father."

Juli silently heads out into their backyard, eager to escape her mother's motherly intuition, joining her father. She looks around at the vast emptiness around her. It's been a long time since she's thought about her chickens, but suddenly she misses their raucous, and the way they always used to swarm her when she came out holding a bag of chicken feed. Realizing how much things had changed from when she was younger – with her brothers, her sycamore, and her chickens gone – she begins to feel more alone than ever.

"You've got to savor mornings like this, Juli," her father sighed, setting down his paintbrush. "The mornings when you wake up and you feel almost invincible. The older you get, the harder it is to come by."

She thinks about the last time she felt almost invincible. It was a very long time ago. It was the last time she was ever up in her old sycamore.

"I don't even remember how that feels," she sighs, not knowing whether she was talking to her dad or herself, hearing the birds distantly chirp around them.

"Then it'll feel even better when you get it back," he says, getting up from his stool and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "Trust me, Juli. You're a natural."

ooo

After breakfast, Juli showers and heads off to her shift at the bookstore. As she drives by the town she sees that everyone is taking advantage of the warm weather – her neighbors at the town square and farmer's market, socializing. Amidst all of the moving bodies she knows that she is looking for one person, even though she reprimands herself every time she catches herself doing so.

Today at the used bookstore Chet has signed up to read to the young children. He volunteered from time to time as part of their Youth Literacy program, along with many of the senior citizens of their town. He walks in with a Dr. Seuss book tucked under his arm and a big smile.

"Hello Juli," he greets her.

She's never noticed it before, but she can see resemblance between Chet and Bryce. It was in the calm and quiet manner they carried themselves, and the way their smile lit up an otherwise very serious face.

Realizing that she was thinking about Bryce again, Juli quickly shakes the thought away.

"Good morning, Chet. You can take the chair. You should be able to start in a few."

Chet nods and tips his hat, before heading towards the front desk to check in. Juli watches the kids as they filter in through the door, some of the younger ones holding dolls and stuffed animals. Their parents hover towards the back where her coworkers are serving coffee and bagels.

She's setting up the book giveaways when her coworker, holding a box of Dr. Seuss dolls, whispers into her ear. "Holy shit, is that Bryce Loski?"

At that very moment she feels each and every tendon in her body freeze. She almost can't look up – but she does, and she sees him walk through the door, surveying the crowd. She's thrilled but terrified that he might be looking for her, and suddenly she finds herself catapulted behind the shelves. Hiding.

"What's wrong?" Lindsey asks her. "Is it a spider? I swear to God, this place has a spider infestation. Every time I come here, I see at least two spiders crawling around like they own the place."

It takes her a moment, but Juli composes herself. She feels the warmth of embarrassment creeping into her face. When has she ever been the girl who hid away from boys?

"Yeah, a spider," she lies weakly. "But it's gone now."

"I doubt it's gone," Lindsey mumbles, inspecting the floor. "It's probably still around here somewhere, looking for a place to lay her spider babies."

Juli excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving Lindsey to finish up the book display. She spends a minute splashing cold water on her face, trying to calm the violent flutters in her stomach. As she closes her eyes, she tries to imagine being up in her old sycamore, watching the sunlight filter through the leaves. She wants to feel that kind of peace again, that innocent contentment, the feeling of being almost invincible, but all she feels is confusion and this unyielding desire to run away.

When she leaves the bathroom and heads back out, she sees that Chet has already started reading to the kids. They are all sitting Indian-style on the floor, some holding dolls, riveted and laughing along with Chet. The parents are sitting in the back, silently bringing their coffee cups to their smiling lips.

She stands to the side, alongside Lindsey, who is also watching Chet.

"This grandpa's good, right?" she whispers to Juli. "He's, like, the perfect grandpa, suede elbow patches and all."

Even in a room full of people, Juli can feel Bryce's gaze boring right into her. She tries her hardest not to look his way. "Yeah, he's great."

Lindsay is quiet for a few moments, before Juli hears her scoff under her breath. "I thought Bryce and Cindy Frisch were over. Wasn't that the rumor?"

Juli abruptly looks up, her eyes settling right across the room to where Bryce was – and, just as Lindsay had commented, Cindy Frisch. She hadn't even noticed when Cindy had come in, but Cindy had cozied right up to Bryce, holding onto his arm.

Juli's eyes were riveted on Cindy's slender and tan hand wrapped around his arm, feeling an unmistakable pang of jealousy. Juli unsuspectingly meets Bryce's eyes for a quick second, but before she can catch Bryce's serious and stoic expression change, she immediately looks away.

So maybe the kiss _had_ meant nothing. Maybe it was just another insignificant event in the ongoing game that Bryce Loski liked to play – one that apparently had no rules in sparing anybody's feelings. Even her's.

"Wait, but if he's back with Cindy," Lindsay wondered aloud, "then why is Bryce looking over here at _you_?" She paused, before talking hushed and fast. "Are you guys having a thing? Oh my God, is it true?"

Juli begrudgingly avoids the question. Lindsay gets the hint.

Suddenly, after a few minutes, her boss, Greg, taps her on the shoulder while Chet is just finishing up the book.

"Juli, there's a call for you. It's your mom," he says to her. "She says it's important."

Juli nods and makes her way towards the office. She picks the phone off of the desk, concerned.

"Mom? What's going on?"

"It's your Uncle David, Juli. He's. . . we just got a call from Greenhaven. He's had a stroke."

Suddenly Juli feels as if the bottom of her stomach has pitted its way through the floor. Her heart has stopped and she's speechless. She can hear the sadness and worry in her mother's voice on the other line, and she can only begin to think about how her father is feeling.

"Is he. . . ." Juli chokes on her words. She's afraid to say it out loud, for fear that it might be true.

"We don't know. Your father's leaving to head over there now."

"I'm coming," she firmly tells her mother. "I want to go with him." She has a flashback of when she had visited Uncle David for the first time with her dad, on his fortieth birthday – of the calm on her father's face when they'd come home at the end of the night, relieved to be able to share it with someone else, for once free from the guilt of hiding him away.

She could never forget about that day. That day, she had seen her father's true strength and love for his family.

"Juli, I don't know—"

"Mom, please. I'm going. I'm leaving now. Just – tell him to wait. Please."

Her mother's voice became gentle and soft. "Okay."

Juli doesn't even remember hanging up the phone. She grabs her bag and heads to the stacks where Lindsay and Greg are manning the book giveaway table.

"Greg, I have to go. I'm sorry. I have a—"

"Don't worry about it, Juli," he quickly says to her, his face serious and understanding. "Lindsay and I can take it from here."

Juli nods, telling him thanks, before weaving through the crowd to head out of the door. Everywhere around her she hears conversation and laughter, with their bulky bodies nudging and moving up against her, and all she can think about is getting home to her father and going to Greenhaven. She is telling herself to take deep breaths even though she can already feel the rings of hotness in her eyes.

When she hears the outgoing bell of the door, she feels release. She harshly breathes in the fresh air. Her feet quickly pound against the cement as she heads toward her car.

"Juli!"

His voice shatters her concentration and suffocating cocoon of emotion. Suddenly, she feels a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back.

"Juli, wait a minute."

It's Bryce. Her shoulder burns where he's touched her, and she closes her eyes tightly. Along with the sadness and panic she feels for her Uncle David, her feelings of jealousy and anger towards Bryce also quickly invade her system. _This is the wrong time, Bryce_, she thinks. _Please don't do this now_.

"Juli, what happened?"

On his face she can see that he is genuinely worried about her, but right now, she can barely take the moment to be grateful for that, especially after seeing him with Cindy. On the deepest level, the selfish part of her just wants to ask him if he and Cindy are back together. His response would answer all of the infuriating, pulsating questions inside her head about their kiss – about _them_. And after so many years, he could finally be a puzzle that she could say she solved, and was better off without.

But this isn't about him. Not now. For once, her life does not revolve around Bryce Loski. For once, she is thinking of something else other than her own selfish wants and needs.

"I just have to go," she says to him, her voice hoarse. "I have to leave."

And then she turns back around, scrambling for her keys as she reaches her car. Getting into the driver's seat, she hears him call out her name one last time. And as she drives away, she catches a glimpse of him in her rearview mirror – Bryce Loski still there, still waiting, and still looking after her, Juli Baker.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: Wow, the response to this fic has been surprising and overwhelming! I never knew Flipped had such a sizable fanbase! Thanks for your kind words and your patience, you guys.

* * *

Everything is a blur when they arrive at the hospital. She's confused by the hallways and corridors that all look the same, the strong scent of alcohol and astringent that never fail to tie her stomach up into knots, the nurses in pastel-colored scrubs, and the squeak of their shoes against the white tiles. Finally, they are led into the room where they were keeping Uncle David.

Juli finds herself hovering at the foot of his bed, cringing at all of the machines they had connected to him. She's never liked hospitals.

"He's asleep now, and in stable condition," the nurse tells them, checking his stats. Her father lets out a silent sigh of relief. "But the doctor would like to have a word with you, Mr. Baker."

He looks at her and says, quietly, "Stay here and watch after him for a minute, Juli," before her father follows the nurse into the hallway. They shut the door behind them and Juli slowly walks to his bedside, taking a seat.

She hears his pulse on the monitor, but she watches his face. She softly lays her hand on top of his and whispers hello. He doesn't stir one bit.

When her dad comes back in, the worried furrow in his brow has returned. He looks wearier, too, as if they'd just given him bad news. Juli stands up and lets him take her seat.

"Is everything okay?"

"They said he's fine, for now," he sighs, sitting down. "But he's getting old, and his tantrums are likely to cause more strokes in the future. They want to put him on more medication, to calm him down."

Juli tries to read her father's face. "I take it that's a bad thing?"

"It's both a good and a bad thing, Juli," he says, resting his chin on his hand, watching his brother on the hospital bed. "Like so many other things in life, both a good and a bad thing."

Juli settles on the seat at the foot of the bed. Suddenly, she hears her stomach growl. She's forgotten she hasn't eaten a thing since breakfast, and she'd been so worried about Uncle David that she hadn't even realized she was starving until she'd taken a minute to settle down.

"I'm going to go down to see what they have at the cafeteria," she announces, standing up. Her father nods, lost in his thoughts, not saying a word. She goes out the door, not exactly knowing where the cafeteria was, but not really minding. She knows that her father needed some alone time with Uncle David; something that she was happy to give.

ooo

Chet is closely observing his grandson as Bryce drives them home – something that Bryce fails to notice because of the whirlwind of thoughts he was having about Juli Baker.

"Bryce, I'm glad there aren't any children out and about right now," Chet says, finally speaking up, "because that's the second stop sign you've run without even noticing."

His thoughts simmer away as he blinks, taking in what his grandfather had said. He hesitantly slows down, and focuses on the road.

"Or cops, for that matter." Chet pauses thoughtfully. "What's gotten you so distracted?"

Bryce answers absentmindedly, letting another car pass. "Juli left in a hurry. Something happened, but I don't know what."

A furrow appears in the middle of Chet's eyebrows. "And you don't know where she went?"

"No," he says, vividly flashing back to their confrontation outside of the bookstore. He feels the knot in his throat return. "She. . . she didn't tell me."

Chet falls back into silence as they turn into their street. Bryce wants to ask him if he knows anything – since he knew he and Juli were close – and on that thought, begins to feel a tinge of jealousy. His grandfather had an automatic bond with Juli, even before the two of them ever got close. What if Chet knew something that he needed to know? His grandfather, though known to give out sage advice from time to time, had a tendency of sitting back and just watching things happen.

He turns the engine off. "You don't know, do you?"

"I believe," Chet sighs, "I am just as lost as you are, Bryce."

ooo

When Juli returns to the hospital room, Uncle David is awake and her father is speaking to him quietly. She can see that Uncle David is still under the influence of the drugs they medicated him with, and he looks at her father with glazed and unfocused eyes through his large brown glasses.

"Look, David, it's Julianna. You remember her, don't you? My daughter?"

David looks at her for a long minute, as if trying to remember. Then a lazy smile crawls across his face. "Ju-weee-an-na," he says hoarsely.

"Hi Uncle David," she smiles back. "How are you feeling?"

He blinks, but his eyes stay closed for a long moment. "Tiwwwwed."

"You should sleep, David," her father says to him, and David nods, closing his eyes again. In a minute he begins to snore.

"After he sleeps off the drugs, he'll be back to normal," he says to her, a little apologetically. She can see on his face that he's worn out, too.

"I brought you some jello and a sandwich," Juli says, handing them to him. She'd had the same thing, down at the cafeteria, while sitting with some nurses. They had gabbed to her about their boyfriends and families and hadn't let her come back to Uncle David's room until they were all done with their lunch break. She hadn't minded. She'd needed the distraction.

"Thanks, Sweetheart, but we should get home. I called your mother and told her that everything was okay."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay a little bit longer?" Juli asks, glancing at her snoring Uncle David. They had only been here for about two hours.

"I'll visit again tomorrow, when he's back at Greenhaven," he smiles at her. "Now, come on. Your mother said she'd keep our dinner warm."

ooo

When they finally get home, it's dark. The houses have all lit their porch lights and Juli spies the light in Bryce's room as they turn into their driveway. She feels the same nervousness and unease as she thinks about facing him again. In the cafeteria and much of the drive home, she couldn't keep her thoughts from wandering back to him. Suddenly she wishes she had explained why she had left the bookstore in such a hurry, but a part of her knows that she had omitted the fact to spite him. A side of her emerged whenever she saw Bryce with another girl – the ugly, jealous part of her that she wanted nothing to do with, yet was every bit as entangled with all of her good qualities.

Her mother was waiting up for them, and had kept their food in the oven. She greets both Juli and her father with a long hug, whispering how glad she was that Uncle David was all right, before joining her father with a glass of wine at the dinner table. Juli, however, begins to head up to her room.

"Aren't you hungry, honey?"

"No, I think the sandwich and jello pretty much did it for me," she answers. It was true. Coming back home, she had lost much of her appetite.

"By the way, Juli, Bryce stopped by here earlier." She looks up to meet both her parents' eyes, both inquisitive. "He was looking for you. I told him you and your father had gone to see your Uncle David."

Juli, trying to seem unfazed by this piece of information, nods and says okay, heading up to her room. She changes into her pajamas and grabs a book from her shelf and starts at the beginning. But as she reads, she finds herself unable to keep up. Her eyes are on the page but her mind is elsewhere – on the boy who lived across the street.

There were times she felt anxious to graduate from high school and go to Stanford. Entering a larger reality, she thought, would make things like childhood crushes shrink in significance. After all, maybe if they weren't living across the street from each other anymore, it would be easier for her. Maybe if the town wasn't so small, she would be over him by now. She would be able to live her life in peace, spending the better part of her days doing anything but longingly wondering about him.

Sometime later, her door creaks open. She looks over her book to see her father. He smiles at her but softly closes the door, sitting at the foot of her bed.

"Your mother tells me that the prom is tomorrow." He stops, as if pausing for her to say something. She doesn't. "And that you've decided not to go."

Juli sighs. She thinks of the untouched prom dress hanging in her closet, with the tags still on. "I'm just not really interested, Dad."

"See, I'll respect that," he says to her. "Your mother insists that I convince you to go, but you are an adult capable of making up your own mind, and I respect your decision." He looks at her for a moment, seriously, and Juli puts down her book. "But I worry about you, honey."

"Really, Dad, I'm fine. It's no big deal," she says. "I just. . . it's not really my scene."

In her mind she's already _been_ to the prom. The gym is impeccably decorated with silver balloons and streamers, somebody's spiked the punch bowl, and the line to the girl's bathroom goes for a mile, filled with raccoon-eyed girls crying over their dates dancing with somebody else. But the one thing she can never place is Bryce. Is he dancing with Cindy Frisch? Or is he across the gym, walking towards her, about to ask her for a dance?

He looks at her for a second, before giving her a gentle smile. He pats her on the shoulder and then kisses her forehead. "All right, all right. I won't pry. That's your mother's job." He rises from her bed, heading towards her door.

Then he pauses. "Just one last thing, kiddo," he says. "The last thing anyone wants is for their life to be defined by the What Ifs."

And then he was gone.

ooo

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the prom, Juli?"

It's the night of the prom, and her mom is still concerned over the fact that she is the only senior in town that is skipping it. Juli doesn't hold it against her; her mother just has very romantic ideas of teenage girldom and hates the idea of her daughter missing out.

Juli is at the kitchen table, eating pudding from a cup. "I'm positive."

She sighs. "I don't like the idea of you being home alone like this. Won't you please at least come out with me and your father?"

"She'll be fine," Mr. Baker says, coming down the stairs, fixing his tie. "She'll be bored to death, anyway. I'm sure she'll find something to do here, won't you, kiddo?" he smiles, giving her a wink.

"Don't worry about me, Mom," Juli says, standing to help her dad with his tie. "I'll be fine. You two have fun, and try not to fall asleep at the table."

Her parents had been invited to a dinner with Mrs. Loski's partners tonight. Patsy was hired by a law firm in town and she had invited the Bakers in an effort to not feel so alone with the suits.

"All right, honey, no parties," her dad says to her, kissing her on the forehead. "Or at least have it all cleaned up by 11."

Her mom leans in for a hug, rolling her eyes. "Take care, sweetie. And the dress is still in your closet in case you end up changing your mind," she whispers into her ear. She gives her a kiss on the cheek.

Juli walks her parents out and waves goodbye as their car disappears around the corner. As she's outside she sees familiar cars drive by, full of seniors heading to the prom, and she can hear the distant click of heels against the sidewalk as some of them prepare to leave. She looks up at the Loskis' house and notices Bryce's light is on upstairs. She wonders if he's getting ready for the prom, too, and if he's ended up taking Cindy Frisch, after all.

ooo

"The prom, huh?"

Chet is sitting on the armchair in the living room, watching his mother help him with his bow tie over his Hemingway. Bryce knows his grandpa liked to reread the same books over and over again. In the time he'd been living here, this was the third time he'd seen him reading his favorite Hemingway.

"I can't believe you're already going to the prom," his mother says, shaking her head. "And then going to college! My, the years just go by, don't they?"

She finishes and steps back, as Bryce straightens up. She looks at him in silence for a long moment. He notices the way her eyes begin to water.

"Mom, you're not going to cry, are you?" Bryce says.

"Of course not," she says quickly, but her voice wavers and she shoos him away. "Go, go, or you'll be late. Are you going to be taking Cindy out to dinner first? I called and made reservations just in case."

"Actually," he says. "I'm not taking Cindy."

Behind his mother, Chet puts down his book.

She blinks slowly. "You're not?"

"Yeah. Change of plans," he says, and his hands start to sweat. The fact is that he had never officially asked Cindy to the prom; she had assumed. And he, himself, hadn't been too keen on going to the prom either, until his mother had come home one afternoon with his tux. Apparently she had taken his measurements while he had been sleeping. And he couldn't bring himself to tell her that he had never planned to go to the prom, knowing how much she had enjoyed her own prom. For the past two weeks she'd crooned about how much fun he was going to have, and how handsome he was going to look in his tux. He wanted to give this to her, especially with the messy way the divorce was going.

"So who are you taking?"

If he looked closely, he would have suspected something in the hopeful way her eyebrows raised. Even Chet, who seemed particularly disinterested in the prom (he had never gone to his – then again, did they even have proms back when he went to high school?), is sitting attentively.

"I'm going alone," he just says.

"Oh." His mother looks faintly disappointed. "Well, be a gentleman, at least, and ask a few girls to dance?"

He tells his mother of course and gives her a kiss on the cheek, before heading out the door. He doesn't stick around to see his mother and Chet quickly exchange looks, because he is already getting into his car. From his rearview mirror he gives one long look at the Bakers' house behind him, before driving away.

ooo

The night air is warm enough that she gets away with being able to step out of her car in just the dress. She doesn't know how her mother had done it; she hadn't even gone with her to look for the dress, nor had they ever talked about it. Juli had just come home one night and saw it displayed on her bed. It was an emerald green, long and silky – nothing like the poofy pink numbers she's seen displayed on the store fronts. It was simple, and clean, and it was perfect.

She's holding her heels in her hand, walking towards the playground in bare feet. It's a full moon tonight and it's brightened up her otherwise very dimly lit sanctuary.

She settles down on one of the swings, dropping her heels to the ground. As she propels herself, little by little, she doesn't know what she's expecting from tonight – from going to the prom. It hadn't been her plan. After her parents left, she had been alone in the quiet, empty house, and her father's words kept echoing back to her. She thought about Bryce and she hated how open-ended she had left things between them. It was unlikely, but maybe tonight, at the prom, she would see him and know how things were finally supposed to end. Maybe tonight she would finally get to see him in the proper light, once and for all.

So she'd turned off the television, tucked the leftovers back into the fridge, and cut the tags off from the dress hanging in her closet. Walking out to her car, she'd looked over at the Loskis. She could see Chet reading in his armchair. He looked up and gave a small wave, which she returned. But her eyes focused in on their empty driveway: Bryce's BMW was nowhere to be found.

She's come here to settle her nerves. After ten minutes of trying to release her nervous energy from rocking back and forth on the swings, savoring the feel of the breeze in her hair, she picks up her shoes from the ground and slowly gets up from the rubber seat. And then she stops.

"Hey," he says to her.

She silently takes in a breath.

He's in his tux, and behind him she can see where he had haphazardly parked his car; right alongside hers. She feels so many things at once, seeing him here. Confusion and nervousness and anticipation, all humming inside her. Her thoughts are restless but the rest of her is frozen in wanton expectation. She reminds herself to breathe. Breathe, Juli. He's just Bryce. Just Bryce.

"What are you doing here?"

"I saw you," he answers. "And I had a feeling you'd be here."

She stands there and takes in the serious lines of his face, the intensity of his eyes. His bowtie is in perfect symmetry; it almost makes her smile.

"Where's Cindy?" she asks him. She doesn't see anybody else waiting in his car, and because of that, she allows herself to feel that little flicker of hope.

"At the prom," he says to her. "With Garrett, I think." He pauses, then, just looking at her. She fidgets under his gaze, and her fingers fumble with the strap of her shoes.

"Where's Nick?"

"At the prom," she answers. "With Kelly McDonald."

He nods. "Oh." He combs a hand through his hair. "Listen, Juli, about that night. . ."

ooo

He'd planned out what to say to her. A million different scenarios with a million different ways to say exactly one thing: that he wanted her, Juli Baker, and it had been so for a very long time. But pacing around in his room, or lying down on his bed waiting to drift off to sleep, or watching her window from his driveway – he could think clearly, then. She was nowhere near. She wasn't physically _there_, in front of him, in this amazing dress, looking so damn perfect in the moonlight that just from one glance at her, words no longer made sense. If he had his way, he would spend five minutes stupidly looking at her, before leaning in to give her one hell of a kiss. But Juli Baker deserves more than that. She deserves so much more, but he figures an explanation is among the top three.

He nervously runs his fingers through his hair. "Listen, Juli, about that night. . ." He pauses, catching the way her brown eyes searched his. "When I kissed you, I meant it."

He watches her face carefully. His heart is pounding so hard against his ribcage that he thinks it's possible he might pass out. He lowers his voice. "It's always been you, Juli. Just you."

For a second he sees Juli up in her sycamore again, up so dangerously high – there was no other girl that would have braved it. No other girl that would have wanted to. Then he sees her again, when he had been planting her new sycamore, that small wave she had given him from the window. All of it represented some kind of hope, for him. All of it had represented something so much bigger.

A slow smile appears on her face. Then, suddenly, he feels her fingers weaving into his own.

"Well, come on," she says, pulling him along. "Or we'll be late."

He looks after her in confusion. "To what?" he asks dumbly.

"To the prom," she says, glancing back at him, her eyes shining.

It takes a second for him to realize her unspoken acceptance. He stops in his step. "Wait a minute." He pulls her back to him, and before she can ask him what he's doing, he's cupped her face in his hand and has kissed her. He kisses her, and kisses her – for a long time, until it's his turn to pull her along.

"Now," he says, "we can go."


	7. Epilogue

_EPILOGUE_

"Almost done packing?"

Juli's putting some last items in her suitcase. She looks up to see her roommate, Trish, with her own set of suitcases beside her.

"Yeah," she says. "Just making sure I've got everything."

"Isn't it weird?" Trisha muses from the doorway. She has an iced coffee in her hand and is wearing her boyfriend's Cal sweatshirt. "You spend the first eighteen years of your life at home, and when you go away to college and realize that you have to come home for the summer – you get these weird butterflies in your stomach. It's the same place, with the same people, but it seems different somehow. Going home, I mean."

She closes her suitcase, zipping it up. She tells Trisha she knows exactly what she means. She's been looking forward to going home all year. She'd come home for Christmas break, enough time to check up on her parents and the sycamore in her front yard. But summer was different. Summer was three months of unrestricted freedom and spontaneity, free from academia and schedules. She had also already talked to Greg and he'd said that she could have her job back at the bookstore for as long as she wanted.

She looks around at her dorm, one last time. It's empty and she feels sad, just a little, but she knows she'll be back. She smiles a little as she heads out of the door and down the hallway. Even though she's excited for the day she'll be back in school, she's not in any hurry for summer to be over.

The lawn is lush and green, with the sun warm and bright above their campus. There are crowds of people saying goodbye, everyone in summer flip flops and t-shirts, and the place is littered with packed suitcases. But as she searches through the crowd, she finds him, leaning against his old BMW, waiting.

She knows she should be used to this feeling, but as she nears him, she feels those same butterflies, and she feels thirteen all over again. When he sees her, he smiles, and gives a small wave.

"Hey," he says to her. He grabs her suitcase, but doesn't load it into the car. Instead, he sets it down, and kisses her. Her mother had once told her that a girl knows it's true love when the way they kiss you still always feels like the first time.

With Bryce Loski, Juli was still waiting for it to get old.

When they're done, she finds him grinning down at her, his blue eyes shining. "You ready to go home?"

She doesn't have to think twice to know. "Always."


End file.
